Ain't That A Kick In The Head
by The lunatic who cares
Summary: When Prowl gets injured in a battle, there turns out to be some interesting consequences. Set G1. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Ain't That A Kick In The Head – Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All Transformers belong to Hasbro and whoever else that isn't me!

**Notes: **X-posted on Love is Black and White. Warnings – This will turn into slash down the line. I'm a shameless Prowl/Jazz fangirl! Back beta-ed by _**Sakkashinn**_ and thanks to flamingmarsh for pointing out some errors as well.

_italics_ – Comm speech

--

Most of them had watched as Prowl, unable to avoid Menasor, was picked up and flung across the sky until he had collided head first into a mountainside. Rocks and dust rained the mountain with him as he tumbled down to its base. When eventually he came to a stop Prowl was utterly still. Jazz reacted first, swinging Dirge around by his wing tips towards Sideswipe.

"Sides, catch!" he yelled as he let go of the Decepticon.

The red twin intercepted his new sparring partner, leaving Jazz free to speed across the land. A burst of fire at Skywarp, who had Ratchet pinned, sent the Seeker blazing across the sky.

"Go Ratchet!" Jazz motioned to the CMO. "I've got ya back."

The medic hauled himself out of his hideout and set off across the land towards Prowl. Jazz made good on his word and kept Ratchet's path clear of Decepticons, staying close to his side the whole time. The other Autobots made sure no other Decepticons got at Prowl whilst he lay defenceless, but Menasor was beginning to cause more trouble for them. Air Raid was nursing a damaged turbine and leg, so the other Aerialbots were unable to form Superion to counter him. Instead they were doing their best to keep him occupied by flying dangerously close to his head.

Finally reaching the damaged tactician, Ratchet knelt at Prowl's side, taking in the numerous dings and scratches over his chassis, before lifted Prowl's head up to get a better look. One chevron was missing and most of the back of his head had been caved in. Ratchet worked quickly, swearing quietly. He had to remove the back of his helm to reveal the damaged circuitry and battered CPU.

"Primus Ratch'," Jazz said quietly, when he saw the damage. "Can ya fix him?"

"Working on it," Ratchet replied shortly. "Tell First Aid to get the bay ready. He needs to deal with the rest of the injuries and Perceptor needs to be prepared to exchange the boards in here."

Jazz nodded, radioing back to base to let the other two know the situation. He kept his own fear over losing the tactician quiet, restrained. Here and now, it would do them no good. Ratchet was the best. If Prowl could be saved, then Ratchet was the 'bot to do. His job was now to keep the working medic and his motionless patient safe.

'_Jazz, report.'_ Optimus ordered from the other side of the battle.

Jazz gave him a run down of injuries on both sides and informed Optimus that things were not going well. If they couldn't take Menasor down soon, then things were going to turn nasty. The Special Ops officer watched Sunstreaker pull a reckless move by driving between Menasor's legs to distract him from his busy twin, who was currently beating Thrust's head into the floor.

'_I know Jazz. When can Ratchet move Prowl?'_ Optimus knew better than to interrupt his medic with comms.

"Ratchet? Optimus wants t'know when ya good t'go," Jazz glanced over his shoulder.

Ratchet didn't answer right away, busy stemming some leaking lines from Prowl's neck. Jazz scrutinized the medic's work, aware that his own field training went far enough for him to know that it looked bad and any CPU damage could be permanent, but at least Prowl was not leaking energon or coolant anymore.

"He's stable, for now," Ratchet replied. "But I want him back in the med bay."

"Now?"

"Now."

'_Optimus, Ratchet's goin' now.'_

'_Go with him. Wheeljack and Hound will organize the rest of the injured during the retreat.'_

'_Understood.'_

Jazz subspaced his rifle as Ratchet transformed and opened up his door to let Jazz load Prowl aboard. Jazz slid Prowl's body in feet first, gently lowering his unprotected head. Ratchet secured his patient before setting off back to base. Jazz kept pace on foot at first, whilst the ground was rough and limiting Ratchet's speed, but dropped down into his Porsche form as soon as they hit the road. He was rear guard for the ambulance until they were safe within the Ark.

Perceptor was on hand to help Jazz unload Prowl and lay him out on the berth as Ratchet transformed. Jazz stepped back to let them get on with their jobs, the two already deep in discussion. First Aid hurried past and Jazz followed him, anxious to help,

"Anythin' I can do?"

"Sure," the harried younger medic gestured at the doors. "Get them organized when they come in. Serious down to not. Keep the uninjured out and get one of them to keep the supplies coming when we need them."

Jazz nodded. Despite still being in training, First Aid was proving himself to be well adapted for coping by himself, which was just as well, but Jazz suspected that, wherever the other Protectorbots were, they were partially responsible for keeping him calm.

The rest of the Autobots who had been out weren't long in coming back. After Prowl, Air Raid was the next badly injured and first on First Aid's list, which helped keep the other Aerialbots calmer and made it easier for Jazz to keep them out of the med bay. He persuaded Silverbolt to get some rest, or rather, told him to make his team refuel before they passed out on the floor.

Wheeljack came in with a cursing Ironhide. He had a temporary weld on his aft, thanks to Wheeljack, but needed seeing as he had damaged relays that limited his leg movement and was in a great deal of pain. Hound was next in with Tracks, who was holding his arm and making a great fuss. First Aid promptly told him to shut up, channeling Ratchet, before drugging him up to the optics when Tracks kept complaining about his paintjob. Jazz grabbed Hound and he became the fetch-and-carry 'bot for them.

Bumblebee and Beachcomber, with a groggy Cliffjumper between them, were next in line. Cliffjumper had managed to take on all of the cassetticons at one point, leaving him battered but intact. The next three in were all walking under their own voliation, so Jazz sent the twins and Bluestreak to an unused corner to wait their turn. He found First Aid and told him his order of patients. The medic thanked him before hurrying back to work. Jazz slipped out of the room to find Optimus so he could report.

--

All was quiet. Only Ratchet was still awake. Prowl, Air Raid and Ironhide were the only patients left in the medical bay, all three deep in recharge. Tracks was resting in his own room, as was Cliffjumper. Bluestreak and the twins had been fixed quickly and were down with Hoist, getting their paintjobs patched up. Ratchet checked his patients over before deciding, that with it so hushed, now was the time to see if Prowl would wake up. He removed the stasis lock device from Prowl's head and waited silently for Prowl to come back online.

He could hear the change in the tone in Prowl's systems as they started powering up. It was a good sign. Ratchet watched Prowl's still uncovered head for signs of shorts in the circuitry, but Perceptor had performed flawlessly. Prowl's hand twitched slightly before his optics turned back on.

"Prowl," Ratchet said gently, trying not to spook the recovering mech.

"…Ratchet?"

"Yes, that's right. You're in med bay," Ratchet watched Prowl focus on his face, pleased he could both speak and see. "What do you remember?"

"The last thing I recall was attending a briefing about the latest Decepticon attack," Prowl replied, his CPU feeling sluggish.

"Then you have lost the better part of a day. I'm not surprised," Ratchet explained.

"What happened?"

Ratchet explained about the battle, with enough detail to satisfy the SIC, and Prowl's aided flying attempt that was stopped abruptly by a wall of rock. Prowl screwed up his face at that bit and lifted his hand to his head to gingerly touch the missing plates. His fingers only brushed the edges of the plates and the jagged edge of his chevron.

"How do you feel?" Ratchet wanted a better picture of Prowl's overall state.

Prowl thought about that. He knew Ratchet well enough to understand that he wanted more than 'my fragging head hurts'. As he processed his thoughts he realised, with dawning horror, that not only was his battle computer sending him back repeated error messages, but his CPU was overrun with emotions. There was nothing he could seem to do about either.

"Primus…"

Ratchet blinked. He couldn't remember Prowl ever saying that before. Swearing was not something the second in command did.

"My battle computer is down and all I'm getting is error messages from it when I try to reboot. My CPU…" Prowl paused. "This is not going to be good."

"What do you mean?" Ratchet asked, frowning.

Prowl shuttered his optics, trying to focus on calm emotions. His damaged head was still catching up with him, but once it did, then he would lay odds on the fact that he wasn't going to be able to rein himself in.

"My emotions are going crazy. I don't have much control," Prowl cracked an optic open to look at the medic. "Don't get me excited, or angry or anything. Drug me."

"I'm not drugging you," Ratchet exclaimed. "I expect your emotions will come back under control when your internal systems repair themselves. I'll get Perceptor to run a system diagnosis on your battle computer when he comes back."

"Good," Prowl muttered, being to feel grumpy. "The quicker the better."

Ratchet raised an eye ridge at that, but refrained from commenting,

"Get some rest. I'll check back later."

"I'm sure you will," Prowl groused.

Ratchet shook his head and walked away, intent on getting some of his own recharge in now. In retrospect he should have taken Prowl's advice and knocked him out again. All hell seemed to break loose when he was in recharge as he was woken by a loud crash, followed by angry yelling.

He shot out of his overnight room joined to the main medical bay to find it in disarray. All of the Aerialbots were present, loosely rung around Air Raid, who was still on his berth and they were all shouting loudly. Ironhide was awake, leaning up on his bed and bellowing for quiet, not at all pleased to have been woken.

It was Prowl that shocked Ratchet into stopping short of the group. Not only was he up and standing, he was yelling as loudly as anyone else, complete with swearing and derogatory comments. It had been going on for a while from the look of things as the Aerialbots no longer seemed put out by Prowl's uncharacteristic behaviour. Slingshot was the mech closest to Prowl and clearly the most angry of the group, with Silverbolt trying to hold him back. The Aerialbot leader was trying his best to keep the calm but with the way Prowl was continuing on, then it wouldn't be long before his patience snapped.

Ratchet's patience, on the other hand, was already way past gone. What with having been woken up to find his medical bay in chaos, he was about to erupt into his most infamous and feared tirade. He stormed right into the middle of the group, pushing Prowl and Slingshot apart before turning on the Aerialbots.

"Get out of my medical bay and stopped disturbing my patients!"

"But Prowl…" Slingshot began.

"But slagging nothing! Out!" Ratchet pointed to the door. "Now!"

"We're leaving," Silverbolt agreed, pulling Slingshot after him. "C'mon guys. Air Raid's fine."

"Told you it was a bad idea."

"Shut it Flight!"

"You," Ratchet rounded on Ironhide. "Shut up and lie down."

Ironhide held up a hand before doing as he was told. He knew better than to try arguing with the CMO when he was like this. He had not survived millions of years to fight with a medic on his own turf. That was a fight anyone would lose. Ratchet nodded before turning to a smirking Prowl.

"And you!"

Prowl rolled his optics.

"Don't you fragging dare!" Ratchet warned him. "What in Primus' name are you doing up? Half of your head is still missing!"

"Well if you'd replaced it then it wouldn't be would it?" Prowl snarked.

"Excuse me? _If_ _I'd replaced it_? Sorry for trying to save your worthless aft first!"

"Whatever," Prowl waved a hand dismissively.

"Next time I'll leave you to short out on the side of a mountain."

"No you wouldn't. You're too soft to let someone die," Prowl picked at Ratchet.

"Oh Primus," Ironhide muttered from his berth before miming zipping his lip plates together when Ratchet glared at him.

"I'd rather be soft than an ungrateful slagger like you!"

Perceptor chose that moment to come back into the medical bay. He took in the sight of Prowl and Ratchet arguing, computed that he had never seen that before and certainly not when Prowl was missing the back of his head.

"Oh look it's Percy, our resident nerd," Prowl commented.

"I beg your pardon?" Perceptor blinked.

"Come to finish your half sparked work then?" Prowl continued, back turned on Ratchet dismissively.

Ironhide watched, understanding how the slag he'd managed to wind all the Aerialbots up so efficiently. Regardless whether he was himself or not, he still managed to do whatever he set his optics on perfectly. Well not quite. Turning his back on Ratchet was not wise. Normally Ratchet would have just thumped him to knock him out, but considering it was a head injury that had led to this problem in the first place, that wasn't going to work.

Ironhide covered his optics with one hand as he saw Ratchet pick up a huge needle and smile maliciously. He didn't want to see this. There was a yell of pain and then,

"You pit-born fragged up glitch!"

"And the same to you. Good night."

Ironhide looked back after there was a solid thud to see Ratchet standing with Prowl draped over him and a satisfied look on his face. Perceptor seemed to be just as confused as Ironhide had ever seen him.

"What is going on?"

"Prowl needs reprogramming, that's what," Ratchet dumped the tactician back on his berth.

"Reprogramming?" Perceptor frowned. "I am sure none of my work was faulty."

"No, not that," Ratchet hooked Prowl up to diagnostic machine. "Prowl told me before that his battle computer is giving him repeated error messages, but it was his CPU that cause this stupidity."

Ironhide listened in with interested as Ratchet explained the problems that led to him knocking the SIC out. Prowl without control, now there was something new. He knew about the glitch that put Prowl out of action when something became too irrational and emotional for him to handle, but that too was a type of control. It was a way out of having to deal with the difficult slag that life threw at you. Now he simply didn't have that. His CPU glitch had been wiped in the accident and, luckily, his battle computer hadn't been able to make a connect to take over. That had meant no-one getting held at gun point before Prowl realised who they were, but now he was much more likely to get into trouble instead.

Ironhide wondered how long it would take for Perceptor to work out how to fix the programming, how long it would take the Aerialbots to spread the story of their argument, how long it would take Prowl to get into trouble again and which one would come first. Also the red mech was praying he was allowed out of med bay before Prowl lost it again.

Perceptor gathered all the information he could from the machines Prowl was hooked up to before scurrying away in attempt to understand why, if his work was flawless, Prowl still had such a large malfunction. Ratchet check on Prowl one last time before heading back to his office.

"And I know you were listening in, slagger," Ratchet paused by Ironhide. "Say anything about this and I will remove you from active duty."

"You wouldn't," Ironhide glared.

"Nice cushy desk job, I believe Jazz suggested," Ratchet grinned.

Ironhide folded his arms across his chest,

"I'll keep quiet as long as Mr Personality Change over there doesn't start on me."

Ratchet nodded,

"I'm keeping him out of it until you and Air Raid are out of my med bay."

"How long will that be anyway?" Air Raid spoke up at the sound of his name.

"I'll let you out of here, but not onto active duty, later today. If I find you messing around when you should be resting that leg of yours I'll put you back in here and leave you to deal with Prowl by yourself."

Air Raid scowled but Ratchet wasn't finished,

"I'll also drag every single member of your team in here by their audios and give them that long overdue exhaust flush you all keep avoiding."

Air Raid grinned nervously,

"Ok boss-mech. I'll be good, promise."

Ratchet left his patients to catch up on paperwork and to decide how to break this to Optimus. 'Sorry Prime, you can't have your second in command back unless you want to put him straight in the brig for insubordinate, fractious behaviour.' In the end he waited until Ironhide and Air Raid had been discharged and, leaving First Aid to watch the still unconscious Prowl, the CMO made his way to his leader's office.

"Come in Ratchet," Optimus had left his door open. It meant he was free to talk if needed. Door closed meant he was busy, normally with a meeting. Ratchet shut the door and sat down. Optimus leant back in his seat and waited.

"So everyone's out of med bay, 'cept Prowl," Ratchet grimaced. "And Primus knows how long he'll be in there."

Optimus frowned,

"Was he really that badly damaged?"

"Yes and no," Ratchet hedged. "Technically saving Prowl's spark was easy, if specialized, but there have been… complications. He could come back to work as he can walk, talk and function normally enough to do his job."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Prowl has the tact of Perceptor, the temper of Megatron when something's gone wrong and the attitude of Cliffjumper and the twins all rolled into one," Ratchet watched Optimus.

For his due Optimus seemed to take it in his stride,

"I see. Are you sure you've got the right mech?"

"I wasn't the one who flew straight into the side of a mountain."

"Prowl."

"Prowl," Ratchet repeated, nodding.

Optimus scrunched up his face plates, even though most of the expression was hidden by is mask. He relied on his second in command to be steadfast and logical. Prowl kept a cool head, as the humans would say, amongst those who would sooner lose their tempers than listen to reason. They could cope without him for now, but it would be hard and a good few mechs would have to take on the mammoth job load Prowl coped with.

"How long will it be before he's back to being _Prowl_ again?"

Ratchet shrugged one shoulder,

"That is something you will have to ask Perceptor. The minute detail of circuitry is his specialty, not mine, but it will be awhile I would guess."

Optimus sighed,

"Thank you Ratchet. I'll let you get back to work."

Ratchet nodded, stood and left the room. Optimus rubbed his head, trying to decide how to spilt Prowl's job and which lucky mechs got the tasks. Jazz, as third in command, would take on a great deal but couldn't be lumbered with too many desk jobs as he was really a field agent. Ironhide had the knowledge to run the scheduling but was not the mech to give Prowl's strategy analyzing to.

After a little more thought Smokescreen found himself with all the strategy reports he could ever wish for, both from his job as diversionary tactician and Prowl's as main strategist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
****Notes: **I am so overwhelmed by the response to this story! All the reviews and watchers! sends out cookies You can eat while you read! I'm getting my craving for love stated here… I so should be working but…  
Ok so I've had 2 people ask about the Twins… They will appear and I will try and give them more of a role, but to be honest, I struggle with the Twins' characters, so we'll see.  
P.A.W.07 put this story on alert! dies I love Promise Not To Tell!  
Right shall we go see how Prowl's doing today then?

-

When Ratchet got back to the med bay he dismissed First Aid, who was grateful to be able to get back to his brothers and some recharge, but he hesitated at the doorway.

"Ratchet?"

The older ambulance glanced up from a data pad and First Aid continued,

"What are you going to do about Prowl?"

Ratchet glanced at their unconscious second in command and made a face of consternation before wiping it away,

"I think it'll be best if he remains here until he is recovered. When he comes round I'll see what frame of mind he's in as to whether he's safe to leave awake."

"And does Perceptor know what he has to do?" First Aid asked, concern in his voice.

"Of course," Ratchet waved the younger mech away. "This _is_ Perceptor we're talking about here."

First Aid nodded before disappearing. Ratchet heaved a sigh out of his intakes. He hated lying to First Aid, he was so open and honest, but there was no sense on someone else worrying over something they couldn't do anything about. As CMO Ratchet carried that responsibility squarely on his own shoulders. He just hadn't thought it would be Prowl he'd ever be this troubled over.

Prowl rarely went out into battle and never made reckless decisions when he was. Ratchet worried far more about the twins for pulling stupid stunts like Jet Judo or Bumblebee for trying to prove himself by taking on a bigger mech. Of course Ratchet was concerned for everybot, but some were tougher than others and some were far more sensible. Prowl was not built to be tough like Trailbreaker and his doorwings were listed as one of the most sensitive appendages in the base.

Ratchet grumbled softly, behind on recharge and anxious over his patient, but didn't miss the beep from the machine hooked up to Prowl. Bracing himself he watched Prowl surface from his forced recharge, CPU calculating just how hard he was going to throw something if Prowl even looked at him grumpily.

The white and black mech dragged himself back to consciousness, aware of the last traces of a drug disappearing from his system. The memories of why there were chemicals there popped up next and Prowl groaned. He had been very, very right and apparently it had cost Ratchet his peace and quiet before he'd taken Prowl's advice.

"I am surprised you let me wake up."

Prowl onlined his optics to stare at the medic hovering over him. Ratchet raised an optic ridge,

"I don't tend to keep mechs drugged up to their optics if I can at all help it, though I grant you, it was tempting."

Prowl moved his gaze to the ceiling, deciding that something as mundane and boring as that, couldn't make the swirling emotions any worse. The regular squares were the same orange as the rest of the Ark and Prowl still found them a vivid, almost nauseating colour. He glared at them.

"You've got a lot of apologizing to do."

Ratchet words made him jump as they interrupted Prowl's thoughts on redecorating, then they sank in and Prowl felt his emotions swerve sharply downhill.

"I know. I am sorry," Prowl looked up at Ratchet, sounding for all the world like a miserable youngling. "They were just so loud and it made me angry."

Ratchet nodded,

"We'll have you sorted soon. Let Perceptor finish his tests and then we'll know."

"Thank you Ratchet."

"Do you think you can cope with visitors?"

"Who?" Prowl asked cautiously.

"Well Jazz normally comes by about now to check on the 'bots still in med bay," Ratchet explained.

"No! Not Jazz!" Prowl exclaimed.

"What? Why? He going to make you angry too?" Ratchet was surprised that Prowl sounded so vehement about it. Everyone liked Jazz.

"No," Prowl shook his head. "It's just… No look, just say no visitors. Safer that way don't you think?"

"Well alright," Ratchet agreed, still unsure. "If that's what you want."

Prowl nodded, face showing his anxiety.

"Optimus won't be kept away," Ratchet continued, arms folding across his chest as if to say 'so what are you going to do about that?'.

Prowl looked away. He really didn't want Optimus seeing him like this, but he knew the commander would be concerned for him and a talk would be in order. The Datsun really hoped he could keep his emotions in check. Yelling at Optimus would be a huge disappointment to himself, something he would never envision himself doing, but stuck like this… He felt so weak and helpless.

Prowl felt his intake hitch. Primus he was going to cry like a youngling.

"Prowl?" Ratchet asked softly, aware something was wrong, but unsure as to which mood would rise up strongest.

"I have… no objections… to Prime…"

Ratchet could hear the wobble in the tactician's voice and decided to give him some space for a moment to collect himself if he could.

"You'll be needing some energon," Ratchet stated firmly, before striding across the med bay to the dispenser there.

He had insisted on it being installed there for the medical staff and those too injured to venture far, but now he took his time in filling up a cube for Prowl and himself. His audios could pick up muted sniffling and strongly desired for Prowl to have found the strength to rein his emotions in by the time he turned around. Ratchet was never sure what to do with distraught, upset mechs, especially ones that could react to anything you say.

When he glanced over his shoulder Prowl was sitting up, staring at his hands with a sorrowful expression on his face. That, in itself, was unnerving. Ratchet squared his shoulders, turned around, a cube in each hand and crossed the floor back to Prowl. He held it out to the SIC without a word. Prowl accepted it.

"Thank you Ratchet," he murmured quietly. "You do so much for us and never receive the gratitude you should."

The medic's optics widened. Prowl had apparently got into his melancholy stride now. Dear Primus, Ratchet would rather Prowl was yelling than this. A desire to inch away crawled up his spinal relays and he actually took a tiny step backwards. Prowl didn't seem to notice as he continued,

"I doubt anyone could count the number of lives you have saved. We would have lost the war if it wasn't for you skills."

"Now hold on a nano-sec!" Ratchet was not going to take the credit for something so huge. "I am not solely responsible for where we stand now."

"Perhaps," Prowl nodded. "But your decisions save lives. Mine condemn mechs to fighting, injury, death."

The CMO flailed for an answer and was saved by, of all mechs on base, the twins, sticking their respective heads through the doors. Ratchet knew how to deal with them.

"What do you glitches want?"

"Hey now Ratch', is that any way to speak to your favourite pair of twins?" Sideswipe grinned as he sidled into the room, his brother behind him. "We just came to see how Prowl was doin'."

"He is _resting_. Now go away," Ratchet glared, folding his arms across his chest.

"No it's quite alright Ratchet," Prowl patted the medic's arm before turning to the twins. "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, thank you for your concern."

Sideswipe blinked and shared a look with his yellow twin, not quite sure of Prowl. It sounded like him; polite, correct, but when had he ever thanked them for coming to annoy him, which they had intended to, and he had to know that.

"You two are also mechs I should be thanking," Prowl continued. "You constantly put your sparks on the line in battle for us all, sustaining more injuries than is fair and yet still you fight."

Both of the brothers stared at Prowl with open mouths and then turned their confused gazes on the medic who was just shaking his head. He caught the looks the twins were shooting his way and shrugged.

"Er you're welcome?" Sideswipe replied.

"It is what we were built for," Sunstreaker reminded Prowl with narrowed optics.

"I know it is not all you want to do. I know what you did before the war," Prowl smiled sadly.

"I…erm," Sideswipe glanced at his brother, a perplexed frown on his faceplates. It was off putting not to get the usual reaction from Prowl.

Sunstreaker shrugged in response, apparently deciding this wasn't his problem and that it wasn't worth the effort anymore. He nodded to Prowl, turned on his heel and strode out of the doors. The red twin watched the doors slid shut, turned back to the other two in the room to find Prowl watching him with that same sad smile and Ratchet still glaring.

An annoyed medic and a depressed SIC was enough to unnerve Sideswipe, who grinned uneasily as he back out of the room,

"Sunstreaker," he called over his shoulder. "Hey bro, wait up!"

And then he was gone.

"Maybe I should keep you," Ratchet mused. "That's a record time for getting the terrors out of my medical bay and I didn't even have to threaten to throw anything."

"It's all I'm good for at the moment, it seems."

"Hey, no! I didn't say that," Ratchet cursed himself for not keeping his vocaliser mute.

"I believe I have a enough CPU power to compute my own usefulness at this time Ratchet," Prowl replied, a dry tone underlying his miserable body language.

Ratchet smacked Prowl across the shoulder, hard enough to make the SIC rock slightly. Prowl looked up at the medic with wide optics, seeming to be utterly shocked Ratchet would hit him.

"I'm not putting up with your 'oh woe is me' pathetic attitude in here. Preferred you argumentative. At least I didn't feel bad for yelling at you then," Ratchet waved a finger at him.

Prowl hung his head,

"You are right, of course."

Ratchet slapped his hand into his face. Optimus picked that moment to walk into the medical bay. Ratchet welcomed the intrusion. Someone else could deal with Prowl now.

"Optimus, sir," Prowl slid off the berth and saluted his commander.

"Sit down Prowl," Optimus told him gently.

As the black and white mech did as he was bid Optimus glanced at Ratchet to asked where the angry, tactless Prowl that he had been expecting had gone. Ratchet made up, down motions with his hand. Optimus understood and crossed to join the pair, running his optics over his second in command. He didn't look particularly ill. Ratchet had replaced his helm whilst he had been offline. The only give away was to someone who knew Prowl well enough to read body language, or rather, doorwing language. The graceful sweeping wings were drooping dejectedly behind the mech, instead of being held in their usual high, wide V. That, and there was also emotion written all over the white face.

Optimus had planned what to say, before coming down to the med bay, but confronted by the sight of Prowl, it seemed inadequate, wrong somehow. Real concern for his trusted comrade and friend made Optimus drop any idea of formality.

"Ratchet would you give us a minute please?"

The medic nodded and headed into his office, shutting the door behind him, giving them all the privacy he could. Optimus watched Prowl shrink in on himself when Ratchet left them, as if fearing he had done something wrong, and the big mech felt pain tug at his spark. He sat down next to Prowl, lessening the feeling of towering over the other that he generally felt.

Prowl glanced at Optimus. He knew this was incredibly relaxed of Optimus and was still himself enough to feel uncomfortable with the leniency. Nervousness was overtaking his depression now, making him feel like he was back on his first day at the Academy. His doorwings twitched like they wanted to scurry away and hide.

"I know this is a somewhat redundant question, but how are you feeling?" Optimus asked.

"I'm fine sir," Prowl bluffed, trying for a calm voice.

Optimus let him get away with something that was so clearly not the truth that a Decepticon could have spotted it at fifty paces.

"Fine enough to work?"

Prowl frowned. Optimus' question was not what he had expected and he forced himself to think about it, rather than just blurt out yes.

"I believe so, if it is simply calculations or reports. I don't feel as if my current state of mind would lend itself to tactical planning."

Optimus nodded,

"Light duty then. Would it help to have work to ease this time along?"

"I hope so," Prowl sighed, misery coming back as his current predicament rose into the conversation.

Optimus shook his head,

"Prowl. Everything will be fine."

Prowl fidgeted in his seat, as if he wanted to say something, but knew better than to just say it. Some of Prowl was still clinging on to his ability to obey rules and behave normally.

"Speak freely."

"How can you guarantee that I will return to normal?" Prowl looked up at him with pleading optics.

"Because I trust Ratchet and Perceptor to do their best, just as I trust every mech under me to do the same," Optimus regarded his friend and SIC steadily. "I don't make empty promises. I learnt that lesson a long time ago."

Prowl nodded violently, motions jerky. Optimus was always so wise and knowledgeable. He was a great leader and he had taken time out of his busy schedule to come and reassure Prowl. It made Prowl feel very special and, at the same time, like he didn't deserve all of this. He felt sick.

Prowl's fuel tanks lurched as he processed that thought and a hand flew to his mouth. Physical symptoms of emotional problems he wanted to do without. His fuel tanks gurgled loudly enough for Optimus to hear.

"Prowl?"

The black and white slid off the berth, trying to keep his movements smooth, hand still over his mouth. He could feel the energon sloshing around in them, like they were far too empty, and fought the nauseating feeling. The noise of his intakes sounded extraordinarily loud in his audios and his optics fixed on the waste receptacle in the far corner of the room. With slow, steady steps he inched across the room and he calculated that he wouldn't of had to run the last few feet if Ratchet had decided then was the moment to emerge out of his office.

The sudden appearance of the medic made Prowl twitch and it was enough to send his fuel tanks over the edge. Barely digested energon splattered up the side of the bin before Prowl managed to get his head over the edge to heave the rest of it up. It burned the back of his throat and the smell stung his olfactory sensors. Tears pricked his optics. It was so unfair!

A hand was laid gently on his shoulder and he looked up to find Ratchet crouched next to him. The medic gave him a sorry smile before patting his shoulder and saying,

"I wondered when your emotions would become too much for your systems to handle. I expect it's been a while since you've ejected the contents of you fuel tanks like that."

"Long enough, but I can still remember I didn't want to do it again," Prowl murmured, intakes working noisily.

When he didn't feel like he was going to 'toss his cookies', as he'd heard Spike refer to it, Prowl sat down next to bin and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Ratchet had disappeared over to a terminal and was typing something into the computer. Probably his medical notes.

Optimus was watching him with concern from the middle of the room where he'd hovered when Prowl had been sick, feeling decidedly useless. Primus. Prowl hung his head. Optimus had seen him eject his fuel tanks. Feeling utterly dejected and ashamed Prowl wanted the floor to swallow him up so he didn't have to look at his commander ever again.

"I'll send some work over for you," Optimus commented from the doorway.

"Thank you Optimus," Prowl nodded, still sitting on the floor next to the waste receptacle, arm curled round it and refusing to look up.

Optimus strode out of the medical bay, somewhat glad to be away from the smell of sour energon that now permeated the air in there. He had seen worse in his time but something about it being Prowl… The big red mech shook his head and headed back to his office, deep in thought. Deep enough that he nearly missed the 'bot coming the other way.

"Optimus! I take it you have just been to call upon Prowl," Perceptor stopped in front of him, forcing Optimus to stop as well.

"Yes I have."

"I am just on my way there myself, with the information I have gathered from analysing the data. It is truly fascinating, the complex way in which each component interacts with…"

"Yes Perceptor," Optimus interrupted. "Perhaps you should be telling Ratchet and Prowl this?"

"Of course!" the scientist nodded and he set off again. Optimus watched him go. At least someone seemed to be benefiting from Prowl's current state, not that Optimus thought it was wise for anyone to be that excited around Prowl. He smiled under his face plate. Poor Ratchet.

As it was Prowl was still in no condition to listen to Perceptor when he made it to the medical bay and Ratchet listened to the scientist explain his findings in great detail, sometimes having to put him back on course when he sidetracked himself. Whilst it was complicated Ratchet managed to simplify it easily enough.

"You know where the problem is, you just don't know how to fix it."  
"Yet! I will discover a solution," Perceptor waved a hand.

"What? Wait," Prowl's voice suddenly made an appearance, followed by the mech himself. "You what?"

"I have diagnosed your problem but the key to resolving it is still undiscovered," Perceptor explained.

"I want to be _me_ again, as soon as possible!" Prowl fought the urge to shout or cry.

"I understand that but we have to treat this like a glitch, rather than an injury," Perceptor spread his hands. "That is how it is appearing to all intents and purpose."

Prowl stared at him for a moment,

"A glitch. As far as I was aware glitches aren't considered a major problem. This would seem to fall into that category."

"Well yes," Perceptor nodded. "I did not mean to imply I would not be putting all my effort into solving this puzzle."

"Puzzle?" Prowl twitched.

Ratchet winced. Perceptor had a way with words. Shame he had the tact of a snub-nosed battering ram, not that Ratchet was one to talk, his bedside manner was infamous, but he knew how to handle delicate situations like this a lot better than it seemed Perceptor did, or, maybe, he'd just learnt his way round Prowl.

"Yes," Perceptor nodded enthusiastically, not seeing the dangerous water he was motoring full speed into. "It truly is fascinating. Your CPU and battle computer seem to be unique and their interactions are complex, working on so many levels to compute…"

"Get. Out," Prowl growled.

"But if I…"

"Out!" Prowl yelled before spinning around so he wasn't facing Perceptor.

"Prowl?" Ratchet asked cautiously.

"Losing control," Prowl gritted out as his grip tightened on the med berth.

Ratchet grabbed Perceptor's arm and hauled him out of med bay. They almost collected First Aid on their way out the door and the young medic frowned at them, before peering back through the doors. First Aid watched the tray of medical equipment fly across the room to smash into the opposite wall, followed by a scream of impotent rage. If it had been Ratchet doing the throwing First Aid might have risked it, but as his optics landed on a fuming Prowl, he decided that retreat was a far wiser option than trying to retrieve his tools.

--

A/N: Am I being too cruel to Prowl? Vote in the poll for emotions you want to see, or message me if you want. You don't have long to go… hint, hint.  
Also I didn't realise that the title of this fic is a direct quote from the G.I. Joe and Transformers comic #3 – Ring of Fire, last panel.  
Next chapter is pretty much done now as well… I keep writing ahead…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Notes:** (grins) Tis like a late birthday and early Christmas rolled into one here. All those lovely reviews and suggestions! Thanks to all who gave ideas and voted on the poll, I am trying to get all of those ideas in here somewhere. Maybe not this chapter but in here somewhere.

I would like to thank Sakkashinn for offering to be my beta for this. Thank you!... Sakkashinn seems to have disappeared off the surface of the planet, so this is all the unbetaed version. Hope everything is ok with Sakkashinn and sorry, just felt I shold post this instead of leaving people hanging.

Right then, who's up for the next bit? Jazz demanded more screen time, so who am I to argue?

Comms in _italics_

-

A boom shattered the peace and made the whole room shake momentarily. Prowl and Ratchet shared a worried look, the former gripping the data pad in his hands tightly, trying to quell the irrational, rising fear.

"Decepticon attack! Everyone to their stations!"

Red Alert's voice sounded over the Ark's internal comm. Ratchet frowned before shooting a hurried look around the med bay. Everything was in order. First Aid did a good job. The medic fixed his gaze on the doors, willing no mech to come through them.

"Ratchet?"

The CMO turned to Prowl when he heard the nervous voice.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing."

Prowl looked so down that Ratchet relented a little,

"Yet. If we get casualties then you can fetch things I need."

Prowl nodded, still clinging to his data pad and twitching every time another explosion went off. He'd never had this CPU blank before. He couldn't think of anything except the terror of the battle raging outside, fear for the others fighting without him and the possibility of the Decepticons breaking through. Prowl knew, he _knew_, that their defences were too good for that, but somehow he couldn't convince himself of that.

The minutes ticked past and whilst vague sounds of battle drifted to their audios, they were deep enough into the Ark that it was never more than that, until Ratchet's comm flared into life.

'_Ratchet we need __you. Cliffjumper's been playin' heroics again.'_ Ironhide's gruff voice informed them.

'_On my way.' _Ratchet replied, gathering up his portable med kit to take with him. _'What's the situation?'_

'_Fraggin'__ Megatron has some sort of field that the Decepticreeps can shoot through but we can't.' _

'_Slag__.'_

'_Wheeljack's gonn__a give Mirage some sorta bomb ta blow it up.'_

Ratchet paused by the doors, looking back at Prowl who was gazing after him with a stricken look on his face.

"You'll be fine here."

"You said I could help," Prowl whispered.

"In here," Ratchet shook his head. "I'm not risking you out there."

Then the medic was gone, leaving a distraught Prowl to deal with his own fears. To give Prowl credit, he kept as calm as he could manage, dragging his attention back to his datapad every time it wandered or panic started. It wasn't until there was an echoing groan from outside the room and the lights abruptly went out, plunging the room into pitch blackness, that Prowl actually gave voice to his fear.

Later he'd be insanely grateful that no one had been around to hear him scream and to watch him hide himself behind a cupboard, but at that moment he would have given anything for someone to hold his hand and tell him it would be alright.

--

"What the frag?" Ironhide whirled around when the lights went out around him.

A single beam abruptly cut through the darkness.

"Ratchet, slag, turn that off!" Ironhide hissed. "Make us sitting ducks doing that!"

"I need light to work on Cliffjumper or would you rather I let him leak coolant all over the floor?" Ratchet snarled back.

"What's with the lights?" Sideswipe asked from the next doorway over, gun still trained down the corridor. "How come the backup's not up?"

"We got an infiltrator," Jazz's voice said from behind them before he appeared next to them, gun in hand, visor catching the light from Ratchet's torch.

"Who?" Sideswipe tensed.

"Dunno yet," Jazz replied calmly. "Optimus is still busy outside so I need ya t'stay 'ere 'n watch Ratch'."

Ironhide nodded and Sideswipe shot Jazz a look,

"Where you going?"

"I got me a saboteur t'catch," Jazz grinned.

"Let me come."

"Nah 'Sides . Better with just me 'n anyways I got better night vision," Jazz tapped the side of his visor and then disappeared with a wave.

"Better not come to me with so much as a scratch," Ratchet muttered as he worked. "I'm not dealing with another fragging officer anytime soon."

Jazz, with his sensitive audios, heard the medic and grinned. He had heard the rumours of how difficult Prowl was being and, whilst he may not have believed them, Ratchet had been grumpier than usual lately. Maybe he should just sic their CMO on the Decepticon spy.

The black and white mech headed down to where he knew the best place was to cut the lights and power to the Ark. Red Alert had informed him that the security grid was still operational so that would be the next target, probably to let more Decepticons slip into the base. The security system had its own power supply, by Red Alert's insistence.

As to who their uninvited guest was, Jazz had his suspicions. His first choice would have been Soundwave, but he had seen the Decepticon Communications Officer outside with Megatron on his last trip to see Optimus. His next favoured choice was Swindle. The Combaticon may not have seemed the obvious option but he was smart, quick and Jazz had not seen him outside with his gestalt mates. Jazz would also have been warier of taking on Soundwave by himself, but he was more comfortable in his abilities to sneak up on the Jeep.

When he got closer to the area he needed to be in Jazz slowed down, gun held ready, and listened. Around him he could hear the sounds of the ventilation system, his own systems quietly running and over it all, faintly, the distant sounds of battle. That odd little clinking noise was out of place and Jazz tilted his head to the side to pinpoint it. To his right, down the next corridor, and with that slight echo, inside a room.

Whilst the noise kept up Jazz was sure enough to stick his head around the corner and not have it blasted off. As he peered into the blackness he could count three doors on his right and two on the left. The middle door on the right was open. Jazz grinned. Who ever it was in there, was making it ridiculously easy for him.

Silent, he crept up to the edge of the door, freezing every time the noise from within the room stopped. When he could go no further the saboteur crouched down. If somebot was watching the door they'd have their gun trained for the middle, about average chest height for a Transformer. For Jazz, being ever so slightly shorter, that often ended up being face height. Ducking down evened out the odds when he entered the room. Now all he had to decide was whether to rush in, potentially surprising whoever was in there, or sneak in. The first was the only option if there was two mechs in the room.

Jazz backed up a few steps to give himself enough room to build up momentum, steeled himself, readied his gun and then was sailing silently into the room. His gun automatically trained on the back of the Decepticon crouched across the room from the door. The brown and purple back told him his suspicions were true and Swindle was out cold before he even knew Jazz had fired his shot.

The Porsche hurried over to his side, wary in case the Combaticon was playing 'possum' on him. With his gun still trained on the Decepticon, Jazz used his foot to tip the body over. Nothing. Jazz kicked him, not as hard as he could have but enough to leave a dent. Nadda.

"Gotcha."

Jazz glanced over the console Swindle had been fiddling with. He could fix the damage but that would mean giving his back to the Decepticon. Even out of it, Jazz wasn't willing to risk it and Jazz was pretty sure he couldn't drag the Decepticon to the brig.

'_Jazz t' Trailbreaker.'_

'_Trailbreaker here.'_

'_Ya busy pal?'_

'_Just shooting Decepticons. You need a hand?'_

'_Could do with a strong 'bot t' come move Swindle for me.'_

'_Send the co-ordinates and I'll be there in a breem.'_

Jazz did so and then patiently waited for the big black mech to come down, optics rarely leaving the other occupant of the room, gun still at his side. He heard heavy feet come down the corridor and stop next to the door.

"Jazz, it's Trailbreaker."

Trailbreaker then stuck his head around the door. He knew the saboteur well enough to give him a warning before just entering the room. Jazz grinned at him, subspacing his weapon. The black mech studied the sprawled out Decepticon and then frowned,

"Brig?"

"Yeah or take 'im t' Prime t' use as a bargainin' tool," Jazz shrugged.

"Megatron doesn't bargain," Trailbreaker pointed out.

"But the Combaticons can't form Bruticus without Swindle, so this mech's worth more 'n I bet ya Onslaught won't just let us keep 'im," Jazz replied.

"Point taken. Right then, best get moving," Trailbreaker glanced over Swindle before generating a force-field, which he used to surround the Decepticon and then proceeded to drag him out the room, with a wave to Jazz as he left.

Jazz listened to the other mech trudge back up the corridor before he turned back to the console. Swindle had been in the process of removing a control panel to the main security grid. Whilst it wouldn't have deactivated the system, or let him hack into it, it would have played havoc with just how much Red Alert could do or see. Jazz knelt down and fixed the pieces back into place, more use to doing the whole procedure in reverse. When he was done he radioed Red Alert to let him know what had happened and to inform him he was on his way over to the lights and power next.

As it turned out Swindle had wrecked those controls and systems more than Jazz knew how to fix. The saboteur absentmindedly admired the work as he commed Perceptor to let him know where he was needed. The scientist wasn't on the front line and joined Jazz quickly enough, but surveying the damage, Perceptor told Jazz that he would need help to get the controls working anytime soon and requested Wheeljack.

'_Jazz t' Wheeljack.'_

'_Wheeljack here.'_

'_Ya busy? Perceptor wants a hand t' get the lights 'n power back on.'_

'_Just a minute… Ouch… No not like that… Get back in there…'_

Perceptor and Jazz listened to Wheeljack mutter to himself over the open comm. Battle sounds were clear in the background as well as yelling from the other members of the Autobot forces. Jazz was wondering if Wheeljack had managed to get his bomb ready to give to Mirage yet, or whether that's what he was doing, when there was a resounding boom from the inventors end of the comm, followed by an eerie silence.

''_Jack?'_

'_Huh that actually worked.__ Neat!'_

'_Ya blew the right thin' up I take it?'_

'_Yup, score for the Autobots. You can tell Perceptor I'll be right down since the others are handing the Decepticons their afts now.'_

'_Will do. Jazz out.'_

Perceptor was already hard at work, datapad pulled from subspace as he listed things do that needed to be replaced. Jazz told him Wheeljack was on his way before heading back out towards where the battle was raging, but he was guessing from what Wheeljack had said, that it'd be all over before he got there. As it was a comm from Ratchet had him redirected elsewhere.

'_Ratchet to Jazz.'_

'_Not a scratch Ratch'.'_

'_Very funny. Go round to the med bay for me and check on Prowl. I'm going to be awhile with Cliffjumper.'_

'_Sure.'_

'_Hopefully he hasn't trashed the place again.'_

'_Why would he trash the med bay?'_

'_Never mind.'_

Jazz frowned to himself as Ratchet ended the conversation. He'd heard the rumours about Prowl but still didn't believe them, even when Ratchet hadn't let him in the med bay after he'd come to drop off Prowl's work.

It didn't take him long to get to the medical area of the Ark since Jazz had long ago changed his visor setting so he could see in this nearly pitch blackness. Without the backup coming online the emergence lighting wasn't even dimly illuminating the corridors. Some 'bots would be struggling without any light source at all. When Jazz entered the med bay he ran his gaze around the room, empty except for Prowl, who was sitting on the edge of his berth, legs swinging backwards and forwards.

"Prowl?"

There was an enormous shriek from the darkness and Jazz watched Prowl spin around, fall off the edge of the bed and hit the floor. He hurried over to help the tactician up and Prowl had to muffled another shriek when Jazz's hands touched him.

"Whoa, bit jumpy there Prowl," Jazz grinned.

"Jazz? What are you doing here?" Prowl calmed down from his shock.

Jazz helped him to his feet,

"Was passin' after the lights went down. Thought I'd call 'n see if ya were alright."

"I'm quite fine, thank you," Prowl nodded then frowned in the direction of Jazz's voice. "You can see?"

"Ma visor comes equipped for this. Handy for workin' in dark spots," Jazz explained. "Percy 'n 'Jack are fixin' the lights now."

"Ah…" Prowl turned away from Jazz slightly, sitting back on the berth.

It was Jazz's turn to frown. Prowl had been distant, more than usual lately, confining himself to med bay and refusing to see anyone other than Ratchet, Perceptor or Optimus. He had never turned Jazz away before when he'd been injured and in med bay. Jazz always visited anyone stuck in here after a battle, and Prowl had accepted his company without hesitation. Prowl had refused to see him and Jazz hadn't believed the Aerialbots stories about an out of control Prowl, but he was behaving oddly now.

"Prowl," Jazz started softly. "C'mon man, tell me what's goin' on. I've been worried 'bout ya."

Prowl hung his head,

"I am sorry Jazz, truly I am, but please leave. I cannot…"

Jazz inched closer, sliding onto the bed himself,

"Can't what?"

"I will be fine, when Perceptor has solved the problem," Prowl stated determinedly.

"What problem?"

"Jazz… please," Prowl turned his head towards Jazz. "I do not wish to push you away, but you are the last mech I wish hurt."

"Why would ya hurt me?" Jazz kept his voice low, even though he was getting more confused by the moment.

"You are quite frustrating. Are you aware of that?" Prowl sighed when it became apparent Jazz wasn't going anywhere.

"Apparently, 'n ya very good at not answerin' questions," Jazz replied firmly.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

Jazz considered it for a moment,

"If that's what ya want."

Prowl nodded,

"When my CPU was damaged, I suffered a loss of emotional control, giving me pseudopsychopathy. I believe humans call it a symptom of traumatic brain injury."

"So the fight with the Aerial's actually happened?" Jazz asked in amazement.

"Unfortunately," Prowl agreed. "I have become better at curtailing my verbal responses, but it is better that I do not come into contact with others, for the time being."

"What happens if…" Jazz was loathed to say it. "If Perceptor can't fix ya?"

Prowl stilled before a tremor ran through him,

"He's got to fix it. I cannot continue like this…"

Jazz watched with something akin to shock as Prowl suddenly broke down, covering his face with his hands. It did little to muffle the sobs and Jazz could feel each pained sound tug at his spark, so it was natural to gather his friend into him and hold him whilst he cried. Prowl buried his face into Jazz's chest, fingers curling into his shoulder joints.

"It'll be ok Prowl. Perceptor will get ya back t'ya usual self, ya'll see," Jazz rubbed Prowl's back, just below his door wings.

Prowl sniffed,

"You think so?"

"Course. I'm always right aren't I?" Jazz joked.

Prowl nodded before lifting his head up,

"Thank you Jazz. You…"

Jazz studied Prowl's face, streaked with fluid and looking so tired. He didn't remember ever seeing his friend so distressed. The second in command was steady as a rock for Optimus and everyone else, providing that unwavering faith and security that 'bots needed. To see him so despairing hurt Jazz.

"Ya've been keepin' all this locked up ain't ya? Tryin' t'be strong for us."

Prowl stared at Jazz's chest, able to make out the white outline in the near dark. His fingers absently traced the edge of the blue stripe. Despite his outburst, or maybe because of it, he felt better. Drained, but calmer.

"It is my job..."

"Slag that," Jazz interrupted. "No 'bot's infallible Prowl. Ya shouldn't have t'take so much on."

"Do you think I don't notice how much you do just that?" Prowl asked curiously. "You keep everyone's spirits up Jazz. Everyone looks to you to make an upbeat comment and knows that you'll lend an audio to anyone that needs to talk. That is strikingly at odds with your job and I have never known you to turn to anyone to talk either."

"Heh," Jazz smiled. "Looks like I've been caught out."

"That is another thing you do," Prowl tapped his fingers on Jazz's chest. "Make light of a serious observation."

"This ain't 'bout me," Jazz reminded Prowl. "This is 'bout ya."

Prowl pushed up from Jazz,

"Truth?"

Jazz tilted his head to the side,

"I'm listenin'"

"The reason I asked you not to be allowed in here is because it is you, out of everyone here, that I fear to hurt the most. If I damaged our friendship then it would be unbearable," Prowl looked at his hands. "I feared that I would not be able to control my reaction to you."

"Ya reaction…" Jazz felt there was something more here and suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to hear this.

Prowl took a deep intake of air and when he let it rush out, he let the words out that he had been holding in for a very long time.

"I love you Jazz. I feared that I would do something to damaged our friendship when I was not in control. Although I am aware that, by informing you of this, I may very well be doing just that, you deserve to know the truth."

Jazz struggled to find something to say,

"I…"

"You do not have to cushion my feelings Jazz. I am fully prepared for you to tell me nothing can come of this," Prowl curled his hands into fists, betraying his calm words.

"Gimme a moment yeah? Let a mech think."

Prowl nodded and they fell into a deep silence. Jazz rubbed the back of his head as his thoughts whirled. Prowl loved him. That knocked him off balance. He had never thought that Prowl had ever harboured such feelings towards him. The tactician had never shown anything to indicate that.

Suddenly the feeling of Prowl's fingers lingered like a ghost over his chest, making Jazz twitch. Other vague memories Jazz had not thought of started reappearing: Prowl always teaming up with him when they were out on missions together, they always worked so well together. Casual, brief, fleeting touches that were never out of place, only a shoulder or a hand. They dated back all the way to Cybertron.

Jazz studied the mech next to him. He had nothing against dating other mechs, and certainly nothing against Prowl himself. The second in command was strong and elegant, his voice distinct and almost melodic to Jazz's audios. The sweep of his doorwings was optic-catching and suited him much more than Bluestreak or Smokescreen. Jazz had to admit that they matched well, black to white and white to black. Reaching out Jazz gently took one of Prowl's hands in his own.

"Jazz?" Prowl let him take it, but his voice showed his surprise.

"Just let me…" Jazz ran his fingers over the other mech's hand, not sure what he was looking for.

Prowl could just make out Jazz's black hands on his white one, vague images in the darkness, but they leant themselves to his gentle touches and Prowl had to fight back reacting. He could only take so much before he lost his control and if he lost it like this, to Jazz, Prowl was sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Not that he wanted to. It was why he hadn't told Jazz to stop. This was treasured.

It wasn't until Jazz followed the main seam down the centre of Prowl's hand to his wrist, that Prowl had difficultly thinking. Jazz suddenly be came aware of the pick up in the rate at which Prowl's cooling fans were rotating. He touched Prowl's wrist again, tracing the edges. The other mech made a low noise in his throat.

"Good?"

"Yes… Jazz… why?" Prowl struggled to think.

Jazz didn't answer, only moving his fingers down Prowl's arm to find all the lines and seams there. Prowl let him, all thoughts of complaining vanishing from his CPU. There was a fleeting worry that Jazz didn't understand how little he could control himself and that he would do anything for him, but when Jazz's hand found a headlight that was banished. He arched into the touch, his own hands reaching out for the other mech,

"Jazz…" he hesitated, unsure.

Jazz suddenly moved, kneeling up on the bed, but no longer touching Prowl. The tactician whimpered at the loss, dropping his own hands down, and Jazz waited until he collected himself.

"I've thought 'bout this," Jazz explained. "I wanna touch ya, but I don't think I should now. I would feel like I was takin' advantage of ya."

Prowl tried to gather the scraps of his CPU back together. Jazz had barely touched him!

"You wouldn't be, but I understand."

Just then the lights flickered back into life. Jazz readjusted his visor and met Prowl's optics, smiling. Prowl stared at him with a somewhat stunned, desperate look on his face. Jazz leant forward until his was inches from Prowl's face,

"Get better soon yeah?"

Prowl nodded vigorously. Jazz laughed softly before kissing Prowl. The other mech melted into him, this time his hands finding him unhesitatingly. Prowl pulled Jazz in closely, hands running over his shoulders, down his arms to his bumper and lights. Jazz suddenly found himself at a distinct disadvantage. Prowl seemed to want to touch him everywhere and everywhere suddenly seemed to be so sensitive. Fingers found his grill and he cried out. His intentions of leaving were rapidly being whittled away by Prowl's hands.

His back hit the berth as Prowl pushed him down, mouth suddenly coming into play. Jazz arched up into the contact, hands gripping at Prowl's shoulders, before he realised the doorwings were in reach. As soon as he touched one Prowl faltered and Jazz grinned. Two could play this game. His fingers stroked the edges of the panels and around the emblem. Prowl moaned, body trembling.

"Primus!" bellowed a loud voice.

The two mechs shot upright in shock, swinging their gazes to the door, where Ratchet stood staring at them with a look of horror on his face plates.

"Ah…" Jazz desperately thought of something to say.

"_In my medical bay?_ Couldn't you at least of gone somewhere else, put a note on the door, _anything!_" Ratchet waved at the somewhat compromising position they were still in, with hands lingering in places they shouldn't in public.

"Our apologies Ratchet," Prowl glanced at Jazz. "We er…"

"…Got carried away?" Jazz finished weakly.

Ratchet glared at them,

"Jazz out. Oh and if Prowl is well enough to do that with you, take him with you. I've had enough of him clogging up my medical bay."

"But I am still…"

Ratchet interrupted,

"Perceptor knows where your quarters are. Out!"

The two mechs shuffled apart and Jazz led a contrite Prowl out of the room, passed Ratchet who had yet to stop glaring at them and then Ironhide and Sideswipe who had the still unconscious Cliffjumper held between them. The red twin grinned nervously at them, having heard the bellowing from Ratchet and knowing he had to go into the room with him. Ironhide frowned at the pair of them, to which Jazz just grinned and Prowl refused to look up.

"Move it you slow afts!" Ratchet bellowed from inside the med bay.

Sideswipe and Prowl twitched, not sure who the CMO was directing his wrath at. The red twin hurried inside, dragging Cliffjumper and Ironhide with him and Prowl scurried away down the corridor, Jazz right behind him.

--

**A/N:** This is what I based Prowl's condition on, in human terms.

Pseudopsychopathy:-A condition of personality following frontal lobe lesion in which immature behaviour, lack of tact and restraint and other behaviours symptomatic of psychopathology are apparent but are not accompanied by the equivalent mental or emotional components of psychopathology.

The emotional consequences of brain injuries can include personality and behavioural changes such as depression, anxiety, mood swings, loss of social skills, reduced self-esteem, stress, irritability, aggression and lack of emotional control.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Author's Notes:** Told ya I was all ready to go. Still un-betaed so feel free to point out my errors.

--

Jazz followed Prowl down the corridor for a minute or so, curious to see where the newly released mech would head, but he realised, after passing through the same corridor twice, Prowl had no destination in mind. He sped up a little to walk by Prowl's side and asked,

"What ya want t' do?"

"I thought that much was obvious," Prowl replied dryly.

Jazz grinned,

"'K, maybe a little, but since ya not headin' anywhere in particular, I wondered what was up."

Prowl stopped walking and fidgeted. Jazz stepped on a few more paces, caught out by the abrupt change and had to backtrack. Prowl's hands were fiddling with each other, over and over, fingers clasping and unclasping each other. His doorwings were twitching back and forth, catching Jazz's attention in a mesmerising moment. The martini racer shook his head and directed his attention to the slightly bowed head of his companion.

"Prowl?"

"I wasn't sure," Prowl gestured between them in quick, abrupt movements. "What you want to do. I didn't want to make that decision for you, because that's rather presumptuous, and then I wasn't sure how to ask you…"

Jazz was caught between frowning in the abrupt change in Prowl's behaviour, again, and grinning when he realised what Prowl was tentatively poking around. The smile won out and Prowl looked away abruptly when he saw Jazz's face, stammering,

"I…didddn't mean… I…"

"Ya've gone all shy on me!" Jazz cried, delighted.

Prowl felt his face plates heat up and ducked his head embarrassed. He had no idea where this sudden bashfulness had come from, since not that long ago he had little else on his CPU except overloading Jazz. Now when he thought about it the shyness accompanied the customary surge in his circuits. With his head still bowed Prowl ran his optics over what he could see of Jazz, taking in the cant of the hips with black hands resting on them, splayed invitingly. His legs were braced slightly apart and Prowl felt his reticence fade as he imagined those strong legs wrapped around him.

Jazz didn't realise Prowl was watching him appreciatively and was considering what to do. It was clear that Prowl wasn't in a mood to make decisions, which left an interesting conundrum for Jazz. Encourage Prowl towards one of their quarters to finish what they started or finding something else to do, since Jazz still felt that underlying concern he was taking advantage of the unstable tactician. With that worry fresh in his CPU Jazz considered other options. Perhaps getting to know Prowl better, since he'd be easier persuade to talk about himself now and a cube of energon always helped the conversation flow.

"Do ya think we should…Omph!" Jazz grunted as his back hit the wall.

Prowl pressed up against him,

"I knew I shouldn't be around you. It's been too long and I need to touch you."

"Little public for ya ain't it?" Jazz asked, amused and battling his own arousal.

"No control. I don't care for social niceties now," Prowl growled at him, face inches from his.

"So if ya hadn't before…"

"You would not be able to count the number of times I had taken you against the wall," Prowl's hand disappeared off Jazz's shoulder, wandered down his side to his hip where the fingers slipped between armour seams.

"Prowl…" Jazz bucked. "I shouldn't… Primus…. shouldn't let ya…"

"Try and stop me," Prowl smirked. "Go on. Try."

Jazz heard the challenge in the tactician's voice and answered it by grabbing two handfuls of doorwings, not enough to hurt Prowl, but enough to make him stiffen.

"Ya on."

Prowl suddenly found himself pinned to the opposite wall where Jazz kissed him thoroughly before jumping back out of reach. He grinned, transformed and screeched off down the corridor, leaving black tyres marks in his wake. Prowl snorted, transformed and took off after him, police sirens wailing. They tore passed Bluestreak and the twins, who gaped after them.

"What you think Jazz did?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Gotta be something good," Sideswipe replied. "Prowl's never chased him down a base corridor before."

Jazz performed a handbrake turn at the next intersection, nearly collecting Optimus on the way passed before zooming off down the next corridor. Prowl skidded around the corner after him, honked his horn at Optimus and resumed the chase. Optimus stared after his second and third in command.

"Did Prowl just beep me?"

Optimus shook his head and opened his comm. to Ratchet,

'_Are you aware Prowl is out of med bay?'_

'_Yes I turfed the slagger out for permanently scarring my CPU,' _Ratchet replied grumpily.

'_OK… but did you know he's racing up and down the corridors with Jazz?'_

'_That son of a half cocked glitch! Just because I spoilt their 'fun'!' _Ratchet exploded.

'_I don't want to ask do I?'_ Optimus started walking back to his office.

'_No. Be glad you didn't see it… Slag, if I saw it then I would lay credits on Red Alert having seen it.'_

Optimus sighed as he was cut off and Ratchet proceeded to try and get in touch with Red Alert. Getting no response Inferno was dispatched to check on his friend. Inferno later appeared in the medical bay with Red Alert, who had a shorted out CPU and every time he came back online he relived the images that had glitched him in the first, putting him nicely out of action. Ratchet wished he could join him.

Jazz raced into the rec room, transformed and darted around behind one of the large couches where Hound and Mirage were relaxing on their time off, after the battle. Mirage frowned and peered over his shoulder at the grinning mech. Hound tap the sniper on the shoulder and gestured at the door when Prowl came screeching in and transformed, fixing Jazz with a pointed look.

"I believe I have you cornered now."

"Haven't caught me yet ," Jazz bounced on his feet.

"That will change shortly," Prowl replied as he slowly closed the gap between them.

"Er guys," Hound started. "What's going on?"

"Would you care to explain how this is your fault?" Prowl raised an eye ridge at Jazz.

"Hey, so not!" Jazz retorted. "Ya the one who started it."

"Well I wanted you…" Prowl returned, voice dropping.

Jazz smiled slyly, uncaring for the strange looks that Mirage and Hound were shooting the pair of them, caught in the middle,

"I thought it through."

"I'll have you to myself," Prowl suddenly launched himself over the couch, inhabitants included, surprising Jazz who hadn't thought Prowl could jump that far from a standing start. They thudded into the ground on the other side and Prowl laid his mouth right over one of Jazz's audios. What he said neither Hound or Mirage knew, or ever wanted to know, because the next instant the two mechs were kissing hard and desperate.

Hound yanked his gaze away,

"Leaving?"

"Quite rapidly," Mirage agreed and they hurried from the room. The door hissed shut behind them and the friends looked at each other in confusion.

"What was that?" Hound asked.

"What was what?" Sunstreaker's voice drifted down the corridor.

Hound and Mirage turned to see the twins and Bluestreak approaching, following the tyres marks on the floor. The scout hook his thumb over his shoulder at the rec room door,

"Jazz and Prowl and… something!"

"Prowl was chasing Jazz down the corridor like his exhaust was on fire earlier," Sideswipe grinned. "He catch him then?"

"Well…" Mirage glanced at Hound. "You could say that."

"I wanna see what Prowl's gonna do to Jazz," Sideswipe hand went out to the door entry button. "Jazz never gets caught on base."

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," Hound shook his head as he and Mirage moved back so they wouldn't be able to see into the room if the door opened.

"Why?" Sideswipe asked, finger punching the button anyway.

"What the _slag_?" Sunstreaker stared into the room.

"That's why," Mirage shook his head.

All three mech's who weren't currently hiding tilted their heads one side.

"Huh. I didn't know Jazz was _that_ flexible," Sideswipe commented.

Both Hound and Mirage twitched, torn between not looking and wanting to know exactly how flexible Jazz really was.

"What's Prowl doing? Why is Jazz doing that? I mean I know what they're doing but why are they doing it in the rec room and with each other? It's not like they would want everyone to see this. Unless they do. Why would they want that?" Bluestreak was cut off by Sunstreaker's hand.

A particularly loud moan drifted out of the rec room and Sunstreaker covered his audio receptors with both hands and averted his optics,

"Shut the door 'Sides, for Primus' sake!"

Sideswipe did as he was asked before turning to the others,

"So you think the rumour that the flyboys' were spreading was true then?"

"Slag, probably," Sunstreaker peered at the shut door. "If Prowl's willing to get down and dirty with Jazz in the _rec room_ then a little fight is nothing."

"I am asking Optimus to security lock the door. No one else should walk in there and see that," Hound commented.

"It's also private," Mirage pointed out.

"They shouldn't have started it in public then," Sideswipe snorted. "I wish I had my camera with me. That's prime blackmail material."

'_Hound to Optimus.'_

'_Yes Hound?'_

'_Could you put a security lock on the rec room door please? I would but certain mechs here can override me.'_

'_Why would I need to put a security lock on the rec room door? Wait, is this about Prowl and Jazz again?'_

'_Again? Yes. I don't think anyone would want to walk in there and… well…'_

'_Very well Hound. Optimus out.'_

Optimus turned off the connection and returned his gaze back to his computer. He called up the security protocols to lock the rec room and his optics landed on the security feed link. Red Alert was currently in the med bay, frizting out over something, so Mr Paranoid wouldn't be able to call a security breach if Optimus took a look at them and he really should, just to check. Optimus cycled through the feeds until he got to the rec room and opened the connection. The image was from a wide angle but that just made the only two occupants in the room seem bigger than normal.

"Frag I didn't want to see that!"

Optimus covered the screen with one hand as his other hit a button on the keyboard to cancel the feed. Somehow he got sound input instead.

'… Prowler do that again…'

'I hate that name.'

'Can't stop me usin' it!'

'Can.'

Optimus clapped his hands over his audios as Jazz responded to Prowl loudly and enthusiastically. Unfortunately that revealed the screen to his optics and they widened before he attempted again to get rid of the feed again. It made the volume rise but nothing else. Optimus was painfully aware that any 'bot walking passed his office would be able to hear what sounded remarkably like porn. Porn from his second and third in command.

There was a clang of metal meeting metal hard that made him refocus on the screen before he offlined optics. Rendered blind Optimus took the last route open to him. His fist smashed down onto the computer terminal and pieces flew all over the room. The remains smoked pathetically on his desk.

"Prime! Are you alright? I heard…. Oh," Wheeljack stopped halfway through the door.

"It malfunctioned," Optimus replied calmly. As leader of the Autobots and bearer of the Matrix he was not going to be fazed by being caught smashing up his office equipment.

"I heard voices and noises…" Wheeljack started hesitantly, not quite sure whether to believe Optimus.

"Ah yes," Optimus glanced at the remains. "It got stuck on a security feed. Must have shorted out."

"Yes, shorted out," Wheeljack refrained from saying Optimus had a piece of wire dangling from his hand. "Looks like I've been here though doesn't it?"

"It does doesn't it?" Optimus replied thoughtfully, optics suddenly glued on the inventor.

"Er," Wheeljack thought furiously. "Except I wasn't, because I'm suppose to be busy helping Hoist and Grapple with their new project. Need an extra set of hands. I really should be going. Bye!"

With that he back pedalled through the door, shutting it behind him and sped off down the corridor. Optimus smirked. Wheeljack would not be mentioning the computer and all Optimus would need to do would get rid of the mess and go get another spare terminal from storage. The only difficult part would be getting the terminal from storage, which was at the other end of the Ark, to his office. A little trip was in order.

Optimus cleared the surface of his desk with a sweep of one hand and cleaned all the debris into the waste receptacle, before striding out of his office. He greeted other 'bots he passed pleasantly but didn't pause to talk and no one queried where he was heading. Sometimes being the Prime had its advantages.

Entering the large bay on the Ark that had once been a shuttle bay, made redundant by the fact that it opened up into the rockface since the Ark's crash into the volcano, Optimus looked around. Everything was neatly ordered and labelled and the big mech recognised Grapple's precision and care in it all. It was all in alphabetical order as well so Optimus headed down one aisle until he found the spare terminals. Each was labelled with specific duties in mind and frustratingly the 'office' ones were right at the back of the ground level shelf. Grumbling Optimus knelt down, squeezing himself down to peer under the shelf and wished, not for the first time, he was smaller. He reached in to pull one of the terminals out from its hiding place.

'_Perceptor to Optimus.'_

Optimus shot upright, startled by the sudden comm., and banged his head on the underside of the shelf. He yelped and rubbed the back of his head before extracting himself from the shelving unit and replying.

'_Yes Perceptor?'_

'_I believe I have solved Prowl's problem but seem unable to gain access to him in the rec room. He is also not answering his comms.'_

'_Understood. If Prowl is not responding to his comms then I would suggest you wait.'_

'_But Prowl was most insistent that I restore him to his previous state as soon as possible!'_

'_Perceptor, I would not interrupt Prowl and Jazz. I believe Prowl would consider what he is currently doing to be more important than being fixed.'_

'_But…'_

'_When he responds to comms I will disengage the lock on the rec room door, but not before then.'_

'_Understood sir.'_

Optimus finished dragging the terminal out and carried it back to his office. Connecting it to the system took a little more time because Optimus was not use to performing such work and found his fingers were often too large to be as precise as he needed them to be. Once he was down he relaxed back in his chair, contemplating taking a break, before getting back to reading reports.

He ventured into the security hub to lock the rec room doors, but hurriedly left before anything could doom him again. The terminal didn't seem to want to leave him with compromising pictures of his officers forever imprinted on his CPU, like the last one had, and he spent the rest of his days in reasonable quiet, trawling through reports from the last battle.

'_Jazz t' Optimus.'_

Optimus smiled briefly. It had taken awhile for Jazz to get in touch and he wondered how much of that he could blame on Prowl or whether Jazz was equally to blame in the procrastination. He could somehow imagine Prowl being the one to be embarrassed by their situation, but not Jazz.

'_Yes Jazz?'_

'_Just wonderin' why Prowl 'n I were locked in the rec room, was all.'_

'_A request. Do you wish to come out now and not engage in immature or private activities in public?'_

'_Heh, yeah we're good.'_

'_For now.'_

Optimus could feel the promised threat in Prowl's clipped words over the comm.

"_Ah Prowl, Perceptor informs me he has solved your problem.'_

'_Great news! We'll be right down. Jazz out.'_

_--_

A/N: Optimus was being all silly in my head, blame him for that.

For those of you that care, apart from Jazz and Prowl, I have a soft spot for Hound, First Aid and Perceptor, hence their appearances.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Author's Note:** So, last chapter... Hope you guys have liked the run. There is a follow on story in the works, Jazz-centred this time, and that should be making an appearence some time.  
Thank you for reading!

--

Prowl lay back on the medical berth, getting himself settled before Ratchet set about putting Prowl into stasis and hooking the SIC up to machines that would take over some of his vital functions whilst Perceptor rewired some of the connections in his head. Ratchet would keep an eye on Prowl's stats whilst Percetor worked and First Aid helped hold Prowl in place. That left Perceptor two free hands with another to angle Prowl's head to where it needed to be.

Jazz retreated to the far side of the room but couldn't bring himself to leave, even with Ratchet glaring threats at him. He kept himself quiet, watching the operation with worried optics. Prowl had suddenly come to mean more to him in just a few short joors. Jazz valued everyone here but Prowl loved him and had just overloaded him more times than the saboteur could remember. It had been the one of the best interfacing sessions of his life and he didn't want to give Prowl up.

Jazz wasn't concerned that something would go wrong in the operation. Perceptor and Ratchet were the best. No what troubled him was that Prowl would go back to being exactly who he had been before; a mech that would never have spoken a word of his attraction to Jazz and certainly wouldn't be demonstrative. The saboteur wasn't sure if he could cope with having all that love and affection he'd been shown abruptly being taken away. Slag it all, he was lonely.

The feeling had been creeping up on him from the moment the rec room doors had slid open. Prowl had been elated and barely kept from running down the corridors. Jazz glad for him and let it show, even if it was to hide the feeling he was losing Prowl with every step he took.

Whilst Perceptor had explained the problem and solution, Jazz could barely bring himself to listen. He didn't begrudge Prowl being fixed, not for a single instant. It was what Prowl wanted and Jazz was pretty fragging sure he'd give anything to see Prowl happy, but why did that mean Jazz had to lose out? Jazz was certain enough that it would mean him losing out because the saboteur knew Prowl well enough to have already thought up all the excuses the SIC could ever consider. Two ranking officers shouldn't be together, it was too dangerous, it would impair their judgement, they would become a liability. Any reason that would endanger any of their fellow members of the Autobots was a good enough reason not to be together, yet nothing would satisfy Jazz truly, but what he wanted and what he was pretty sure he was going to get wouldn't be the same.

"Well!" Perceptor suddenly announced, clapping his hands together and making Jazz jump.

Ratchet peered over his shoulder to study the open helm of Prowl and nodded. First Aid stood on tip toes at the other side of Prowl to peek a look, but didn't move from holding him. They all turned to the monitors for a moment to see whether the SIC would continue to hold steady.

"Ya all done?" Jazz asked quietly.

"Yes I am," Perceptor smiled. "It was quite a challenge, in some parts, to repair the circuits. Prowl's CPU has been using other routes to make the needed connections and persuading him to return to the proper ones was somewhat of a thrill, I'll admit."

Ratchet grunted, pushing Perceptor out the way,

"Now, if you don't mind, Prowl still needs the rest of head fixing. Aid, lift him up a bit."

The younger medic complied, hauling Prowl into nearly a sitting position, so Ratchet could reattach the helm that Prowl had been wearing earlier. He'd also had time to make a new red chevron as Prowl was still sporting only half, jagged edge still sharp. Jazz watched Perceptor tidy up his tools before leaving and then diverted his attention back to the medics. First Aid was lowering Prowl back down to the berth, Ratchet already done with the easy attachment of his helm. The CMO handed First Aid the new chevron to attach, knowing the younger medic would want to do more than just hold Prowl, even though he'd never complain. Fixing something so simple wasn't exactly a taxing procedure but it was better than nothing.

Jazz leant back against the wall as he found a little bit of tension easing from his frame. He hadn't realised just quite how worried he was whilst Prowl was being operated on, but now it was really over, he could relax and pretend that nothing had changed. That would be what Prowl would want and the saboteur would do his best to give the mech he wanted more than life anything he asked for. Sadness welled up briefly before Jazz quashed it ruthlessly. He had lost out prior to this, and would again, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

First Aid stepped to one side once he was done and Ratchet began the sequence to bring Prowl back into consciousness, all the while watching the monitors closely. Everything was completely normal. Perfect even. The three mechs in the room watched Prowl twitch a little before stirring.

"Prowl," Ratchet gained the tactician's attention as soon as his optics flickered into life.

"Ratchet," Prowl replied calmly.

"How are you feeling? Any psychopathic tendencies?"

Prowl sat up, noting his doorwings felt a little stiff and flexing them,

"None and, by that statement, I presume something happened to me."

Ratchet and First Aid shared a suspicious glance. Memory loss wasn't expected.

"You don't remember."

Prowl seem to consider this before answering,

"The last event I recall is attending a meeting about the latest Decepticon attacks."

Jazz missed the rest of the conversation as his world dissolved into white noise. Prowl didn't remember the time they had spent together, what they had shared, including Prowl's admission of love for Jazz. The saboteur made as if to escape the medical bay but his movement attracted Prowl's attention.

"Jazz," his voice sounded surprised and pleased and Jazz remembered that, whilst he may not be able to recall confessing to Jazz, he still loved him and they were still friends.

"Hey Prowl," Jazz replied, forcing a smile onto his face as he walked over to the berth.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came t'see how ma friend's doin'. Ya know I always check on mechs stuck in med bay," Jazz leant a hip against the bed.

"Except you haven't been stuck in here," Ratchet muttered.

Prowl frowned at him as Jazz shot the CMO a 'shut up!' look. Jazz was smiling pleasantly though, when Prowl turned back to him and Prowl gave him a small smile back. Jazz fought not grin. Prowl's smile had a whole new meaning now.

"I take it I'm free to go Ratchet?"

Ratchet shrugged,

"You seem fine, but _anything_ happens, get your aft right back in here."

Prowl nodded, slid off the berth and turned to Jazz,

"Would you like to join me for some energon?"

"Sure."

The two black and white's left together, talking amicably. Ratchet watched them go with narrowed optics. Something was off with Prowl. The medic wasn't sure whether he believed the SIC when he said he couldn't remember, but it wasn't like Prowl to lie. He wondered what Jazz was going to do now and just how he was going to deal with the rumours about the pair of them running riot around the Ark.

When the pair had gone far enough from the med bay not to be overheard, Prowl conversationally said,

"I gather I have missed quite a bit."

Jazz twitched,

"Yeah, couple o' battles 'n some other things."

"Would you care to fill me in about them?" Prowl asked politely.

"Sure," Jazz nodded, externally calm whilst internally he was hurried reviewing everything they'd done together to make sure he didn't trip himself up. "How 'bout we get that energon t' go with it?"

Prowl agreed, commenting he felt like he had been a long time without refuelling. Jazz just headed in the direction of the rec room rather than point out it wasn't a matter of time that had left Prowl feeling low on energy, rather the activities he had been engaged in not that long ago. Activities that left a ghost of heat and sensation running through him when they re-enacted themselves vividly through the saboteur's CPU.

Jazz realised, when they entered the rec room, that this probably wasn't the wisest idea he'd had. Every single pair of optics immediately turned to them and silence descended on the room. Nobody seemed to know where to start and Jazz grasped the opportunity.

"Heya fellas! Prowl's all fixed up now," he gestured to said mech. "Unfortunately seems he's got a complete CPU blank 'bout the past few days."

Jazz deliberately met Hound and Mirage's optics with a sharp look. Both of them hurriedly nodded and then subtly motioned towards the twins who were whispering together in one corner. The Porsche briefly screwed his face plates up as he thought of how to deal with the troublemakers, vaguely aware of Ironhide asking Prowl how he felt. He trusted the older red mech not to say anything but the twins were looking decidedly suspicious now.

"Prowl, wanna grab those cubes?" Jazz asked. "I need a quick word with Sides."

"Of course," Prowl nodded amicably, thanked Ironhide for his concern and headed over to the dispensers.

Jazz hurriedly over to the twins and leant in between them, fixing both of them with unyielding look.

"I hear one word from either of ya," Jazz hissed in a low voice. "'N every single one of ya contraband items will suddenly be gone, straight into Optimus' possession."

The twins glared back but Jazz wasn't done yet.

"Ya'll also never be able t' pull off another prank 'cause Red Alert will always have prior information on ya 'n ya'll find ya days filled with maintenance work."

"You can't stop us," Sunstreaker bit out.

"Sunny," Jazz replied calmly. "I'm not head of Special Ops for ma charmin' personality. I can 'n will make ya life misery if Prowl hears one word of this, from anyone."

Sideswipe protested,

"We can't stop the others talking!"

Jazz grinned,

"Ya've got plenty of talents, use 'em."

With that Jazz stood up and made his way back over to Prowl who stood waiting, a cube in each hand. He handed Jazz his own cube before saying,

"Perhaps we should talk somewhere quieter. It seems many mechs will want to talk to me now I am out of med bay."

Jazz nodded,

"Sounds like a good idea."

The pair left together and as soon as the doors had shut everyone in the room started talking, half of them wanting to know what Jazz had said to the twins. The twins hurriedly explained Jazz's threat and then twisted it slightly so the punishment included everyone. Nobody called them on it, though there was a heated discussion as to how long Prowl could be kept in the dark and whether Jazz would tell him.

The mech himself was currently worrying over exactly the same thing. He knew he was only slowing the inevitable of Prowl discovering what he had done over the past few days and was pretty sure Prowl would appreciate Jazz being the one to tell him, but just how could he? How do you drop such a line into the conservation; 'Yeah 'n then after the battle ya interfaced ma CPU out in the middle of the rec room'. Just didn't quite sound right.

Jazz barely noticed the journey back to the officer's quarters, nor the fact that he had automatically entered the code for his own rooms, rather than them going into Prowl's. He supposed personal quarters were a better setting for what was going to be a highly personal conversation, than offices.

Prowl seated himself behind Jazz's desk, optics running over the mess of datapads scattered on its surface as Jazz plonked himself down on the edge of his berth, since there were no other chairs in the room. The visored mech downed his energon to buy himself a little time. Prowl sipped at his, waiting for Jazz to fill him in and discovered that Jazz was quite apt at telling stories. His hands gestured expansively and his voice rose and fell with real feeling.

He told Prowl what Prowl had told him, the pseudopsychopathy details, and Prowl had reacted with some level of shock but also with understanding, claiming that it made logical sense for such a level of damage to translate itself in such a way in him. Jazz had smiled at that, shaking his head,

"Trust ya t' say that… so I caught Swindle, knocked 'im out cold 'n Trailbreaker took 'im away so Perceptor 'n Wheeljack could fix the lights when the others were winnin' over the 'Cons. Ratchet had me check on ya in med bay 'n that's it really, 'fore ya got fixed 'n all." Jazz finished abruptly.

"That was the first time I saw you?" Prowl confirmed.

Jazz nodded and the SIC continued,

"And I was normally with you?"

Jazz hesitated for a moment,

"Well ya got a bit emotional on me."

Prowl looked a bit distracted and Jazz could guess why. He was worried he had let something slip about his feelings when he wasn't himself, but wasn't sure how to check without giving himself away. Jazz should reassure him but then Prowl would know that he knew.

"Jazz," Prowl started slowly and the saboteur tried to hide his anxiety. "There seems to be a time discrepancy in your story."

"What?"

"Between the end of the battle and my returning to full health, you're saying that I was only repaired. Nothing else happened?" Prowl regarded Jazz in a puzzled manner.

When Jazz didn't answer straight away, only looking away with a guilty expression, Prowl stood up,

"Please tell me the truth. I know I must have done some things that I will not enjoy hearing about."

"Well I don't know about ya not enjoyin' it," Jazz muttered. "Ya certainly did at the time."

"I could have done little else."

Jazz shoot a truly confused look at Prowl when he said that to find him smiling slightly. Prowl walked across the room and laid a hand on Jazz's shoulder. The smaller mech stared up at him as he tried to process Prowl's words and actions. The soft smile on Prowl's face was very telling, but Jazz couldn't think of what and Prowl seemed to understand.

"I want to thank you for trying to save my feelings. That means a lot to me, especially since it would mean you losing out in order to achieve it."

Prowl's hand cupped the side of Jazz's face gently as Jazz still stared at him in confusion. The Porsche seemed to gather himself somewhat, enough to ask,

"Ya remember…?"

Prowl nodded and Jazz shot to his feet, pushing Prowl away in the process, spluttering and waving his hands,

"All this time, when I was coverin' for ya…"

He wasn't angry, just bewildered as to why Prowl would go through all the deception. Now he was the one on the emotional rollercoaster; being with Prowl, effectively losing him, worrying he'd get embarrassed, finding out it was all a fabrication.

"Jazz please understand…" Prowl held out his hands.

"Ya lied!" Jazz exclaimed, poking his finger into Prowl's chest.

"Yes," Prowl slowly took hold of Jazz again. "I felt it would be better if others thought I couldn't recall anything about my outbursts. I lost their respect then and that is dangerous. If they don't respect me then how can I expect them to follow my orders?"

"Ah Prowl they didn't stop respectin' ya. Just made 'em think ya were a normal mech like the rest of us," Jazz lent back from the slightly taller mech, beginning to understand. "And anyways ya got any idea what that did t'me when I thought ya couldn't remember what we'd done?"

"For that I am truly sorry," Prowl leaned in closer as his voice dropped. "Truly sorry. How can I make it up to you Jazz?"

Jazz felt his pump speed up at the low, sensuous tone and fought back a moan.

"There must be something I can do for you," Prowl continued, a smile beginning to appear. "Or should that be something I can do _to you_?"

"Prowl…" Jazz breathed.

"Are you making me guess?" Prowl was centimetres from Jazz's audio. "I suppose that's fair."

The Porsche vibrated when the tactician nuzzled one of his stubby horns, teasing him and drawing out memories of what Prowl had done to them before. Jazz let his fingers slid down the white sides they held to clasp the black hips and pull them close to his. His thumbs teased the red arrow in the centre and Prowl's grip on him tightened.

"Is that your answer then?" Prowl murmured but he didn't give the saboteur a chance to reply before they were hitting the berth.

Jazz lay under Prowl, clinging to him as Prowl leant over him, wings flaring, making him seem more imposing and dominating. Jazz nearly melted through the berth at the sight, memories flaring of before and what an assertive Prowl meant for him. Prowl's engine rumbled into life as he stared down at Jazz, loud enough to convey his own arousal and his optics glowed brightly with restrained lust and love. The Porsche made a sound between a gasp and a moan as a small, pleasant shudder ran through his frame.

Prowl dipped his head and kissed Jazz, taking his time to map out every inch of Jazz's mouth. Slowly he pulled away, reluctant to leave, but needing to taste the rest of the smaller mech beneath him. When they had interfaced before, it had been a desperate, almost rushed, affair, so bad had been the need in Prowl. Now, back in control, Prowl wanted to touch all of Jazz, to find all those sweet spots the other black and white mech had. Some part of him wanted to make Jazz feel so good, he would never leave him, because now Prowl had him, he wasn't intending on letting Jazz go anywhere.

Prowl's mouth explored, and his glossa lapped at the joint between bumper and midsection. One hand was trailing along Jazz's thigh, stopping at the back of his knee joint to torment that area, reducing Jazz to a writhing, purring Porsche against the recharge berth. Prowl's hand continued its path down, stopping at Jazz's spoiler and wheel located on his heel, stroking it and tracing its edges.

Jazz didn't know if he was coming or going. Prowl had proved he was good at this before, but now, now it was like he was determined to find all of Jazz's hot spots and drive him to distraction. It was all the saboteur could do stroke what he could reach of Prowl. More often than not he couldn't think straight enough to work out which way was up, let alone how to get Prowl back up to where he could reach him.

As it turned out Prowl wanted to be back up where Jazz could touch him, finding the Porsche's neck to be highly sensitive. Prowl hummed against a cable, the vibration sending Jazz careening towards the edge, nearly over it, but not quite there yet. Jazz's own mouth was busy nibbling and lapping on Prowl's chevron, suckling on the tips, memories of its once damaged state making him be gentle, before he kissed his way to an audio in between pleas for more of Prowl's touch, begging to be pushed into overload.

"Jazz," Prowl whispered as he brushed his lips along Jazz's right audio. "I want you so badly."

The passion burning within Jazz took hold and before Prowl could stop him, he had Datsun on his back. The sleek black and white form of Jazz was writhing above him, fingers tracing seams, fondling cables, nipping and licking at armour and Prowl couldn't help arching his back, hands pressing the saboteur closer. He could only surrender to the passion, allowing hands to caress him, tugging at seams, desperate to reach every spot on his body that could arouse him. Fingers dipped in between armour grasping feverishly at cables and wires, tugging on them.

Prowl held in the moan as Jazz began to nip at his throat, a glossa flicking out to lick the sensitive panels. Lips dragged over his neck and Prowl arched into the contact, head thrown back as Jazz licked and nibbled his way across Prowl's neck, moving down towards his shoulders and onto his chest. Jazz's glossa danced across the glass of a headlight and Prowl cried in pleasure, one hand pressing to the back of Jazz's helm, as the mech teased him.

Prowl's free hand moved down along Jazz's back, fingers running along his roof, tracing the racing stripes until they stopped at Porsche's black aft, which he cupped before he squeezed, making Jazz arched back into his hand. From there Prowl traced the seam where the back of a speaker panel joined his hip, earning a pleasured groan from his lover.

Frames shuddered, tremors growing in intensity as their excitement rose and the intense energy ploughed through Prowl's body, setting every circuit ablaze as the overload hovered over him. Hands caressed his lover at a frantic pace, driving Jazz closer and closer into that overload until the saboteur couldn't hold back anymore, crying out his pleasure so loud Prowl was sure anybot nearby would hear him. The tactician watched the beautiful scene of Jazz throwing back his head as his overload to raced through him before it triggered his own, making him cry out his love's name before Jazz all but collapsed on top of him.

As they recovered, Prowl rained kisses across Jazz's face, telling him how much he loved him and thanking him for forgiving him for his deception. Jazz smiled down at him, fingers stroking Prowl's face softly, before slumping down to lie beside him, arms entwined.

"Wore me out," Jazz felt his recharge program began to start up. "Makin' me worry then blowin' ma CPU like that."

Prowl kissed the side of his helm,

"Recharge then. I'm not going anywhere."

Jazz was asleep the next instant and Prowl felt the weariness from the last few days over take him. Reporting to Optimus and catching up with his work could wait after a decent recharge. After all he wouldn't want to make mistakes and being tired drastically increased those odds. With that decided, Prowl took one last look at the sleeping Jazz and then let himself drift into a deep recharge.

--

Jazz slowly booted up his systems, pulling himself out of recharge and several things occurred to him as he did so. One: He was lying partly on his side, mostly on his front, which was odd because he generally recharged on his back. Two: The berth seemed a lot smaller than he remembered as his arm was hanging over the edge. Three: He felt a lot warmer and heavier than normal. Jazz discovered the fourth one when he onlined his optics: There was an black and white arm around his waist.

With a grin splitting his face plates Jazz settled back down on the bed to listen to Prowl recharge. The soft flutterings of air from Prowl's outtakes drifted over the back of Jazz's neck and Prowl was pressed up tight against Jazz's back. One of his legs was between Jazz's and his face was snuggled into the crook of Jazz's neck.

Jazz hummed in contentment.

"What are you thinking about?" Prowl's voice asked softly.

"Just thinkin' this is a fraggin' good way t' wake up," Jazz replied, still smiling.

"Mmm," Prowl murmured. "Every morning."

His lips brushed over the sensitive wires in Jazz's neck, making the saboteur shiver, before he turned slightly in Prowl's arms to see him properly. Prowl smiled down at him in a lazy way. Jazz pulled him down to kiss him and say good morning properly. If it was morning. He hadn't even bothered to check what time it was and had absolutely no intention of doing so for as long as possible.

Apparently Prowl didn't either because when he broke the kiss he simply swept his gaze over the saboteur in a proprietary way and Jazz felt heat rise in his circuits. He knew that look. Prowl had used that look a lot last night when Jazz had lain under him, screaming out his pleasure. For somebot who spent ninety percent of his time working so seriously, the SIC was exceptionally good at interfacing.

Prowl watched Jazz squirm a little before grinning at something that had clearly just occurred to him. Still unsure just who or what he should be thanking for having Jazz here in his arms like this, Prowl was more than content enough to simply gaze.

"Ya gonna do somethin' or just stare at me all day?"

"I was quite satisfied just watching you actually," Prowl smiled. "I'm still trying to get my head around you being here."

Jazz gently stroked the side of Prowl's face,

"Better believe it babe."

"I believe I just might start to," Prowl chuckled before his face turned serious. "Jazz, thank you."

"For what?" Jazz tipped his head to one side slightly. "For bein' 'ere or just bein' so slaggin' sexy ya can't resist me any longer 'n have t' touch me again?"

Prowl smiled, then a small chuckle escaped, followed by a proper, unadulterated laugh. He tipped his head back and his whole body shook. Jazz grinned, happy to wait until Prowl calmed down.

"You…" Prowl started, trying to still his giggles. "You are so incorrigible."

"Yup that's me," Jazz agreed. "Now are ya gonna kiss me or do I have t' do this all maself?"

Prowl laughed softly, before doing what he was bid.


End file.
